Grandad
Posted on 2003-04-13
My Dad was never here much when I was growing up. I was much closer to my Grandad, (my Mums Dad), and he was the 'Father figure' in my life for most of my early childhood. I adored him. When I was sick it was him that I wanted to comfort me and tuck me into bed. If I fell over and grazed my knee it was him that I wanted to make it better. I was definately a 'Grandaddys girl'.
I remember in 1989, when I was just nine years old, my whole family went to visit my Aunt and Uncle in Paris. It was my Grandparents 50th Wedding Anniversary that year, and we were all getting together as a suprise to celebrate with them. At the time one of my relatives mentioned that my Grandad looked unwell, but he was adamant that he just felt tired and a little overwhelmed by us suprising him and my Nan.
A few days later however, he still felt unwell and went to see my Uncles doctor. I don't really remember much about what was said at the time, but I can remember being told about a week after we got home that my Grandad was sick and needed to go into hospital. Everyone was under the impression that he was just going to go into hospital, have some tests run and come home again until the doctors could find out what was wrong with him - no one imagined that less than 2 weeks later my Grandad would die of cancer. He must have been in so much pain for months, but he hid it from everyone that loved him. That's the kind of man that he was. He wouldn't have wanted us, his family, to worry about him, and I know he wouldn't have wanted a lot of fuss made either. Now I'm older I often wonder if he knew that he was dying, and decided not to say anything so that he could live his last days in peace, rather than be stuck in a hospital bed for weeks just waiting.
In those two weeks he was in hospital it was his birthday, and I wanted to go to and visit him, even though I had been warned that he was very sick and would be sleeping a lot of the time. I made him a birthday card, and put on the same dress that I wore for the anniversary party to try and cheer him up and to make him think of the party that he'd enjoyed so much.
Mum knew that my Grandad had been sedated and there wasn't much point in us staying at the hospital for too long. The nurses had told us that he would be asleep pretty much constantly because of the drugs, but I didn't really understand why he didn't wake up when I whispered Happy Birthday to him, and why I didn't get a response from him when I kissed the back of his hand. I thought that I'd done something wrong.
As we walked out of the ward and up the corridor to the exit I remember feeling really sad. I didn't want my Grandad to be upset with me, so I turned round and ran back to try and say sorry to him. I couldn't bear the thought that I'd somehow upset him, and in my innocence I thought that if he didn't answer me he didn't love me any more. I'm glad I went back though, for at that moment one of the nurses was injecting some medication into the IV and he'd woken up. Admittedly he was pretty out of it, but I managed to wish him a Happy Birthday and told him that I was sorry for upsetting him, and that I loved him. He put his arm around me and told me that he wasn't angry, just tired, and that I'd always be his little girl, and with that he went back into a deep sleep.
I like to think that he dreamed about the party, and that my dress made him think happy thoughts before he went to sleep - you see it was 14 years ago today that he died, just a day after his birthday.
I still love my Grandad just as much today as I did then - maybe even more, because now I'm an adult myself I understand what I great man he really was.